Tabitha by Andrew Hall Read Free Book Online Page B

dust-pale, he realised that he couldn’t see
from his right eye. Alex held him strongly by the shoulders, staring at him in
shock. His brother’s face was inches from his own, but he could hardly see him
in the ashen gloom.
    ‘Are
you ok?’ David slurred, with the taste of metal in his mouth. As he wiped his
chin he realised his arm was blackened and soaked in blood. He tried to put
some weight on his right leg and screamed.
    ‘Take
it easy. I’ve got you,’ Alex said gently. He helped David into the passenger
side of a car close by. Alex turned the key in the ignition, but there was no
sound. He cursed, slamming the steering wheel.
    ‘Nothing’s
working!’ he yelled, trying his phone. He got back out and helped David to his
feet. Alex tried not to look at the gaping hole in his brother’s stomach.
    ‘I’m
getting you to the hospital,’ said Alex.
    ‘If
it’s still there,’ David mumbled, smiling. He was still smiling when he
collapsed on the road, staring shell-shocked at the sky. Alex had to catch him
and lie him down, just to stop him hitting the road hard.
    ‘Here,
hold this on your stomach to stop the bleeding,’ said Alex, wriggling out of
his jacket. ‘Hold it as tight as you can.’ He pressed his bunched-up coat
against the hole in David’s stomach, but his brother couldn’t lift his arms to
hold on to it. David’s blood was puddling around them
on the road, stark red against the pale snowy dust.
    ‘Hold
it on there,’ Alex insisted, wiping a tear quickly off his face. He looked into
his brother’s eyes. ‘Hold it on.’
    ‘I
love you, man,’ David whispered, as the sky and the city and his brother faded
to black.
    ‘David?’
Alex said quietly, watching his brother’s lifeless face. ‘David!’ Alex could
only stare in shock, holding his brother’s cold limp hand. David’s dead eyes
stared up at the vanishing sun. Overhead a vast black shape crawled through the
sky.

 
    4

 
    Blinking, Tabitha came around on the
carpet. She’d been having the longest dreams, and so vivid too. Of spidery
silver legs in the dark, reaching out towards her. Of a pain so fierce, she’d
thought her heart was about to burst through her chest. It took a while to get
the feeling back in her limbs.
    ‘Oh, shit,’ she
croaked drowsily, realising with utter shame that she’d soiled herself. She sat
up and squinted at the hallway around her. Dry mouth; morning breath. Why did
she have a hangover?
    ‘Ok… what just
happened?’ she asked the empty house, gasping for a drink. She’d never felt so
desperately thirsty; so utterly disgusting.
    Half-blind she
staggered upstairs to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. It wouldn’t
flush properly. The sink tap just choked when she turned it, and shuddered the
pipes. There was nothing but a dribble of brown sludge spluttering out; the
same from the shower too. Cursing, she pulled off her sodden clothes. She
unwrapped the bandage around her thigh, peeling dry like ancient paper; crusted
with silver. The square grey veins had disappeared; there was only a pock mark
left where the needle had punctured her skin. Shuffling out again, she fetched
a big bottle of water from the kitchen to wash herself off in the bathtub. The
clean frothy perfume of soap had never smelled so good; she still couldn’t
believe that she’d crapped herself. Her body felt numb as she towelled down and
brushed her teeth. The bathroom was still a blur in the white daylight; glowing
smudges and dancing shadows. As her vision slowly came back into focus, she
stared at her hands. She wiggled her fingers, turned her palms up. She raised
her hands up at the window, just to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Her
hands were grey. They were grey metal. Dull, matte, rubbery metal. The grey
faded back to her own skin tone at the wrists, as if her hands had been
spray-painted. Like she was wearing painted-on gloves. She tried to grip the
grey coating and peel it off, but there wasn’t a join.